Fucking christ.

Amazingly enough, when I come home livid enough to spit killer bees, I'm not in the mood for sex. So no fun sex stories this weekend; in fact I don't think I even got naked except to take a shower (or sleep, Jay likes sleeping naked so I follow along when he's here). Jay wasn't entirely happy about that, so he tried this morning, which meant that I woke up crying and curling up in a ball.

No, this is not my normal reaction to anything sex-related from Jay.

Work has got me feeling really shitty; I compared it to an abusive boyfriend last night. Just when you finally think to yourself "Fuck this, I'm better than this bullshit" it comes out and apologizes, and promises it won't happen again, things will be different, and you have a great shift where you feel like you're on top of the world and you get suckered back in again and think "well maybe it will be different".

Except that I know it won't, so I don't know why I try. Except that I haven't got a new job yet, and I can't quit until the end of October, anyway.

On top of that, I'm getting sick. I called off last Tuesday because of just sheer tiredness, and it didn't help. I've been feeling off all weekend, and then today I woke up with a sore throat and a headache and a fever. Stunning. Getting sick as a dog is clearly very high on my list of priorities.

And to add to the fun, my nipples are for some reason hyper-sensitive, to the point where even thinking about having something touch them is painful. That's what ultimately woke me up and had me crying this morning - he went for the tits, and it was bad.

So I'm drugging myself up and eating throat drops like candy, and going to work and being bitchy, because I need the money and there's no one to work my shift if I call out anyway. Fucking awesome.